I’m feeling down again and guess what has triggered it? Being fat. As always.
Nothing else really gets me down – things can annoy the fuck out of me like cyclists and Brexit, but nothing actually depresses me like the loss of self-esteem that being fat, and getting fatter does.
Earlier this year, I lost, I think 6 or 7kg whilst on my 3 month detox. I have since put back on 8kg – reaching a new record highest weight, 98.5kg. Some of it I actually put on before my detox ended with an Easter chocolate binge (2.5kg – because I didn’t lose weight from doing some exercise and got pissed off), then most of what I lost in 3 months I had put back on within 1 month.
The usual suspects are about to say, “do some exercise”.
I accept that this is a good idea, and I am not against getting on my bike – I managed to ride 2km the other week which I was pretty proud of, once I got over the psychological challenge of imaginary people taking the piss out of a fat, ugly bloke on a bike.
However, I very rarely have any time. I’m home by 730pm on a work day. That leaves me 2 hours to have dinner and do any tasks that I need to do – there simply is not time Monday to Friday to do any exercise. And I’m shattered by time I get home anyway.
Then at the weekend, I need to clean my house, do my washing/ironing, any admin, clear e-mails, reply to messages that I didn’t have the time to during the week, do some studying/coding, ring my parents, have a roast dinner – and hell maybe I’ll have a couple of beers. Sometimes I go crazy and organise something by the way of a social life. I often intend on doing some exercise, but I tend to run out of time.
This weekend was the perfect example, I was going to ride my bike, hell maybe try and go 2.5km this time – push myself, but instead I spent hours trying to improve my AngularJS knowledge, as I feel under pressure to improve this as quick as I can for my job – I need a proper pay rise as I am sick of being nearly 40 years old and on shit wages with little pension and no hope of ever owning my own home. If I had a pay rise, I could have at least employed a cleaner – and then had more time to do more positive things. Alas my pay rise request was rejected.
I’m averaging 3,500 calories a day – which is kind of a problem. But I’m tired, partly because I’m so fat and work/commute such long hours, so I eat more. And also I binge/comfort eat when I’m depressed about being fat. I had not far off 2,000 calories by lunch today.
It is all a negative virtuous circle.
Alcohol also makes me more tired, of course. I’m drinking less than I used to – but still 30-40 units a week. I think my doctor wants me to be drinking 3 -4 units a week. It is quite a bit less than last year though.
I also have much lower self-esteem than I have had for many years, partly I guess because most people around me are much fitter, much less fat and much better looking than me. And also have money. I’m not as social as I used to be, I rarely feel creative inspiration and I’m definitely nowhere near as funny as I (think I) used to be.
It may be easy for you to say “do some exercise” or “sort it out”. I see fat people and think exactly the same, forgetting how fat I am. But it really fucking isn’t easy. I try all kinds of ways of incentivising myself to lose weight but I just ignore them most of the time nowadays, as I’m simply trying to keep myself going in the short-term.
Only 3 things have proven to have worked for me losing weight:
- Going clubbing every weekend
- Being unemployed
The latter is the only feasible and desirable option in the current stage of my life. I’m slowly starting to feel that I may need to employ another detox. Though not until England have been knocked out of the World Cup.
Other solutions could include working from home occasionally (unlikely), changing job to one with more normal hours (ballache and risky), moving house nearer work (total ballache and risky) or finding a hot woman that I want to impress and hence lose weight (dream on…).
However, being so fat does affect my self-esteem in general, makes me question myself as to whether I want to spend time with people, apply for new jobs – well, everything I do or think about doing. And don’t even get started about dating – I don’t even go on Tinder now in case I get a match as I’m too fat to meet anyone anyway. I actually look like I have boobs when I’m sat on the tube – not to mention 8 chins.
The rest of my life I’m reasonably happy with, though everything is open to improvement. My weight is just consistent failure and it makes me sad.
I’m off to go buy some sausage rolls and a chocolate muffin.